About the Breaks of Day
by Sapphire at Dawn
Summary: Long after the death of Robin Hood, an unlikely visitor strays upon even more unlikely guests.


_**This is eventually going to be the epilogue of my story 'A Life in Sherwood', but seeing as it is nowhere near finished, and this came to me in a stroke of *inspirtation*, I thought I'd put it on here anyway. It's based on Robert Lancellyn Green's 'King Henry and the Hermits', which in turn is loosly based on ballads of Robin Hood (which ones I don't know, and am too tired to find out). Hope you enjoy! Tell me what you think. Constructive critisism is really really really welcome!**_

_**A/N: I don't own these characters, England and her heritage does.**_

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"_Robin Hood is here again: all his merry thieves_

_Hear a ghostly bugle note shivering through the leaves..._

_The dead are coming back again, the years are rolled away_

_In Sherwood, in Sherwood, about the breaks of day."_

_Alfred Noyes._

Many years after the death of Robin Hood, when Edward the First ruled over England, a small hunting party arrived in Sherwood Forest when the cold mists of early spring lingered over the budding trees in early light.

They proceeded to once again occupy the Royal Hunting Lodge that had long stood empty. The forest folk watched with interest, and gathered at a distance, the elders beginning to whisper wild tales that soon began to fly among them. They knew the fireside stories of a time long ago, when something terrible had happened at the Lodge. They said that no good would come to the men, one of whom was the King's own brother, the Earl of Lancaster, who now took up residence there . But the men ignored the local's concern, scorning their silly near-Pagan beliefs, and began their hunting trips into the Royal Forest of Sherwood. It was on one such trip that a strange event occurred.

The men had ridden out late in the morning, due to some late mist that clung frantically to the trees, vestiges of which remained still, in parts of the forest. They had been riding for only a few minutes when a fine white hart leaped into view and immediately dashed away again. With a cry, the men gave chase, plunging deep into the bushes after the beast.

Deeper and deeper they followed the hart, until they found themselves separated from each other by vast bands of mist that had descended once again on the forest.

The King's brother finally gave up the chase when he realised that the hart was long gone, and that his companions where nowhere to be seen. Forlorn, he set off in search of shelter for the night, for darkness would soon be descending upon him.

He had not been riding long when he came upon small wooden hut nestled within the trees. He dismounted and proceeded to knock upon the heavy wooden door. It was soon flung open, and the Earl was greeted by two very old men, one of whom was enormously fat, and the other unnaturally tall for someone of his age. He had obviously been of great stature and strength in his youth.

The Earl of Lancaster begged the two men to let him stay in their hut for the night, and to spare him some food and water to refresh himself, which they grudgingly provided. With some persuading, they also produced ale, and soon a merry tune could be heard from within.

The old men grew hospitable and jolly in their tales and songs, and soon the taller of the two, who seemed to have grown in the few short hours, drew a bow and a quiver of arrows from underneath his cloak.

'Do you shoot, Master Huntsman?' he asked of their guest.

'Indeed I do,' the Earl replied eagerly, and because he had consumed a large quantity of ale, he added; 'It has been said by many that I am the best archer amongst all who have accompanied me to Sherwood.'

The tall man laughed.

'Well, I was once one of the best bowmen in all England, second only to one. We shall see who triumphs,' replied the tall man, with a wry smile.

So they went outside the hut, and the other man set up a willow wand and a mark, a great distance apart. All three tried again and again to strike the wand, but only the tall archer could nick it.

The Earl was amazed; he had never seen the likes of this man's skill before; even his brother, the King's, best archer could not shoot as this man did. It was the material of legend.

'Prey, my good host,' the Earl exclaimed, as the tall man hit the mark for a third time. 'If you were once only the second best archer in the country, who was the first? He must have indeed been great!'

The men chortled at their guest's astonishment.

Their laughter sounded like merry peals, and their faces shone, ruddy with the joy of youth, and as they laughed, they appeared less withered and the wrinkles and lines smoothed away. They grew tall and straight and proud again, and their merriment echoed and vibrated through the trees, so that the forest itself seemed to be joyous with them.

The Earl of Lancaster remembered little after that, and woke up again the next morning upon a comfortable bed of straw. The events he recalled of the previous evening seemed so unlikely that he doubted very much if they were true.

However, his suspicions were denied as he glimpsed once again his hosts, and found that they were indeed the same men as who had entertained him with raucous tales and unparalleled archery skills.

'Why,' he exclaimed to his hosts when they greeted him that morning. 'Last night, I either had an extraordinary dream, or an even stranger evening, for I dreamed that I spent the night accompanied by Little John and Friar Tuck, of whom legend speaks are were the companions of old of the great Robin Hood himself!'

The men smiled at each other for some time, their eyes nearly glazing over as if they were recalling events and memories of times that had long past. At last, it was the taller man who spoke.

'The spirit of Robin Hood and his Merry Men, though long gone from life still live on in the leaves and eaves of the trees that fill the heart of this vast forest that men call Sherwood. They will continue to do so long after the world that we know is long gone, and strange things crawl the surface of the earth.'

'Then thou art indeed John Little, that legend speaks of!' The Earl exclaimed, and looked on the man in wonder.

His hosts did not deny this accusation, merely smiled reminiscently at each other.

'Unless I am much mistaken,' the Earl said. 'The very forest itself seemed jubilant at thy return, Little John and Friar Tuck of Sherwood. The stories folk tell are true; the men of Robin Hood were indeed the best archer's England has ever seen, and I am grieved that their time has come, and is now over. However, I declare this day, and last evening great, lest it forget England forget again the heroic deeds of your master.'

With that speech, he rode off in search of his hunting party. To his great surprise, he found them again, not two miles away from the small wooden hut where he had spent the night. He eagerly recounted the tales of his adventure, but though he many times searched for the hut where his friendly outlaws resided, he could never find it again_._


End file.
